


nothing lasts

by cosmeticpeaches



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Adopted Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family Angst, Family Fluff, Ghost Sleepy Bois Inc, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Mentioned TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Other, Sleepy Bois Inc Angst, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Twins Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot Angst, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade are Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:41:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29146104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmeticpeaches/pseuds/cosmeticpeaches
Summary: “Braid my hair.”His voice was so quiet, Wilbur almost thought he had imagined it. It had been years since Wilbur had even last touched his hair. He forgot how that felt—that soft brown hair of his Techno once had underneath the pads of his fingers. Wilbur didn’t realize just how much he had longed for the touch of something that was once for him.Wilbur swallowed the lump in his throat. “Okay.”Or: Wilbur braids Techno's hair three times.
Comments: 19
Kudos: 251





	nothing lasts

**Author's Note:**

> title inspo from the song nothing lasts by bedroom
> 
> sorry for any grammar mistakes i'm too tired to properly proofread

1\. 

“Your hair’s getting long.” 

“It’s barely past my shoulders.” 

“Well, it sure isn’t as short as you kept it before.” 

The brush caressed his hair gently, his soft hair allowing the brush to untangle his hair without any problems. The air was warm, and his clothes were sticking to his skin from the sweat of having to sit beside the fireplace. The booming voices of Tubbo and Tommy echoed from upstairs, but Techno drowned it out, the calmness of his hair being taken care of making him sleepy. 

He wasn’t sure how this became a routine, or how it began. One day Wilbur just sat down on the couch and started brushing his hair. Techno, too focused on his handheld console to tell Wilbur off, let him. This seemed to have encouraged Wilbur, though, because he took this as a sign to brush his hair every night in the living room. 

To be honest, Techno didn’t have a problem with it. He’d find it a tad embarrassing if he ever had to admit this to anyone, but for now, it was just him and Wilbur, and that was fine with him. 

Wilbur would always end the brushing by tying his hair into a braid. Techno didn’t know where he’d even learn how to braid hair, but he didn’t bother asking. Usually, the brushing was done in silence, no words exchanged. It was more of basking in each other’s company than trying to make small talk, but today was different. Wilbur spoke up, and Techno found himself answering before he could stop himself. 

“I like it long; hair isn’t meant to be constricted,” Techno answered, the flashing colors of the console in his hand flashing in shadows across his face. 

Wilbur let out a chuckle. “Of course you’d say something like that. The man who has a pig and potato phase doesn’t seem to mind the tangles growing out of his head.” 

Techno paused his game to look back at him and squinted. “It’s not a phase,” he grumbled. “I do like pigs and potatoes.” 

Wilbur stroked his hair, his fingers raking through his strands. “Yep, yep. Just a phase. That’s what I told Phil, too.” 

He twisted his hair slowly, making a braid. Techno closed his eyes momentarily, liking the feeling of his hair being taken care of. Wilbur was gentle, his touch fragile and careful, like his hair would drop from his touch. Techno never really understood why Wilbur of all people would be gentle with his hair with him, but he didn’t question it. Techno didn’t question much of anything. He took things as they were. He was bad at bringing up certain topics, he was bad at questioning things or people or initiating conversation. 

Techno wouldn’t call himself sociable, but he also didn’t mind the company of others, he just never got used to the warmth of another person with him. As sad as that sounded, it was true. Because of that, people found him antisocial or scary. Techno wasn’t sure how to fix how people saw him, so instead, he changed into what people saw him as. Instead of being the boy too scared to reach out, or being the boy left with the unknown knowledge of how to start connections, he accepted what people told him. 

Maybe he was scary and hard to talk to, maybe he was antisocial, maybe he was just different from other people. Techno didn’t know which racing thoughts of his were true and weren’t. No one ever taught him anything, no one had ever told him the possibilities of speaking, they had just accepted that maybe this was him, and that was that. He found that out after moving from one foster home to another. They were all the same. 

Except for Phil. 

His thoughts were interrupted by Wilbur finishing his braid with a tug. “There. All done.” 

“I don’t like my curls.” Techno blurted out, shutting off the console with a sigh. 

“Your curls are nice. You just have to maintain them... look at mine!” He twirled a curly strand around his index finger. Wilbur’s curls were nice, Techno noticed. They were untangled and were soft, not tangled and rough like Technos. 

“When I get older, I’m straightening my hair, then you won’t have to braid or brush it all the time.” Techno picked up his console as he stood up and stretched. The distant voices of Tommy and Tubbo were gone. Tubbo was sleeping over, and it was still pretty early, so he was surprised to find that the house was silent except for his and Wilbur’s voices. 

Wilbur frowned. “Don’t say that. I like brushing and braiding your hair. I can’t exactly do that to mine, so why not try it with yours?” Wilbur smiled. Techno was envious of his smile. Even if they were twins, people could still spot the difference between them. With Techno’s sturdy build and his dead antisocial eyes, it wasn’t hard to tell who was who. 

“Whatever. I’ll just save you the trouble.” Techno murmured as he walked past him and went up the stairs, console still in hand. He could hear the footsteps of Wilbur’s behind him, also walking up the stairs. 

“Oh, trust me, with Tommy, I’ve learned how to handle trouble on my own. Your hair doesn’t even compare. I promise that in the future I’ll help you out with your hair.” Wilbur snickered, walking over to the room he and Techno shared and opening the door before flopping onto the bottom of the bunk bed. Techno couldn’t help but smile a little at that since it was true. Tommy was a handful. 

He climbed onto the top of the bunk bed. Techno and Wilbur had to share a room and bunk bed, meanwhile, Tommy had his own room. Probably because he was younger, but Techno didn’t call out Phil for the possible favoritism. After all, Tommy was an orphan just like them and probably had it harder. 

Snuggling up under the covers, Techno stared at the ceiling. Techno was a lanky kid, so he’d sometimes bring his arm up to the ceiling and move his fingertips across the rough texture until he’d eventually grow tired and then doze off. 

Wilbur seemed to have different plans, though. Techno heard ruffling from underneath him and then some footsteps. He was tempted to grab a pillow and throw it at Wilbur for causing so much noise before bed, but he figured it’d be a waste of a pillow, so he stayed silent as Wilbur walked back to his bed and sat down, the bed creaking under his weight. 

For once, the silence was uncomfortable between them. The shift in the atmosphere seemed off as Techno began to ponder what Wilbur was doing. Was he asleep? What had he gotten up to grab? A part of him wanted to roll over and bury himself under his covers until he drifted off to sleep, but for some reason, he couldn’t. 

A few minutes pass before Techno lets out a quiet huff and sits up, his braid that was over his shoulder now pressing against his back. He crawled over to the edge of his bed before swinging himself over the ledge. He was upside down, the blood rushing to his head as his braid swung back and forth in the air. 

What Wilbur had gotten up to grab seemed to have been a guitar. He had his eyes closed as if wondering what to play. Techno almost wanted to warn him that Phil would hear and probably tell them to go to bed, but there was no point, for Wilbur had begun to finally let his fingers drift over the strings of the guitar and play a tune Techno never heard before. Probably another one of his songs. 

As Techno watched Wilbur play his guitar with a smile on his face and his eyes closed, he noticed how peaceful he looked. He didn’t even look this peaceful when sleeping, but Wilbur seemed to finally look his age when he played his guitar. 

He almost seemed to be in a trance, his body still except for his fingers that were strumming the strings of the guitar. The soft tune of the guitar calmed Techno down, the guitar serving as his lullaby. He flipped himself over so he was laying back down on the bed. 

As he felt himself dozing off, before his eyes closed shut, the ghost of Wilbur’s smile flashed across the ceiling. 

2\. 

This morning, Phil had confused Techno with Wilbur. 

Techno was making his way downstairs; the strong smell of the usual breakfast made his nostrils flare. 

He had made his way over to the kitchen and found Phil in the kitchen. He was making some eggs and bacon. Gathering the ingredients, he started to cook the bacon, using the skillet to cook it until it was crispy. After cooking the bacon and setting it aside, he beat the eggs with cream, salt, and pepper in a bowl. 

Adding in the butter in the skillet, along with the eggs, he stirred it with a spatula, lowly humming to himself. Adding in some cheese, and the bits of bacon he cooked, he stirred them together. Garnishing it with chive, he finished the stirring and gathered it in a plate for himself. He grabbed a piece of bread and put it in the toaster as he served himself some coffee. 

“Good morning, Wilbur, you sleepy hea-” Phil turned around and stopped himself, his pupils dilating as the realization of his mistake hit him. His hands looked as if ready to let the coffee mug slip from his fingers, but he clutched onto it once he noticed the loss of weight on his hands. “Good morning, Techno. I hope you didn’t stay up too late last night.” He turned over, taking a large gulp of the boiling coffee. 

The sound of Wilbur’s footsteps echoed behind Techno as he made his way down the stairs. Wilbur raised an eyebrow, standing beside Techno. Techno’s face was indescribable, and so were his feelings when Phil had mistaken him for Wilbur. Is this all who he was to Phil? A carbon copy of Wilbur? They shared the same face, the same hair, the same genes, but most definitely not the same life or feelings. Techno was a person of his own. 

“Why would he mistake you for me? We’re nothing alike.” Wilbur wondered, scratching his chin awkwardly. He was never mistaken for Techno, it was only the other way around, and the thought of that alone made Techno seethe. 

He clenched his teeth. Making his way over to the kitchen table, he pulled out the chair and sat down. Tommy was already at the kitchen table, staring at him with a faraway look in his eyes. Techno stared back; his eyes were pinched together as he maintained a glare at the child. Tommy was small and while he wasn’t really a threat to Techno, he sure did have a big mouth. 

“Geez, who shoved a stick up your ass?” Tommy grumbled, leaning back against the chair with his arms crossed. 

Tommy also seemed to carry a large vocabulary of curse words at such a young age. Phil never questioned where he had gotten these words from—typical. 

“The only one with a stick shoved up his ass will be you if you don’t shut up,” Techno growled, the bag under his eyes darkening as he felt the anger pulse underneath his skin. 

“Wow, yeah, fighting with an orphan, Techno. Congrats. You’ve sunk low.” Wilbur spoke as he stuffed his mouth with cheerios that he served for himself. Wilbur was just the type of guy to eat a bowl of cereal for breakfast and be content, it was his usual breakfast meal. Again, Phil never really seemed to question it, as Wilbur always got away with eating earlier than the rest of them with the food that he liked or wanted. 

“Tommy isn’t an orphan, at least not anymore. He’s very much favored by Phil. Can’t you tell from that mouth of his?” As soon as Phil brought over the plate of eggs to the table, Techno brought down his fork, stabbing the eggs maliciously. 

“Alright, boys, that’s enough. Let’s not start off with a loud morning today, shall we?” 

But Tommy wasn’t having any of it. Tommy never learned when to shut up, that was the problem. He stood up, hands on the table. His eyes were flaring with the usual Tommy glint in his eyes he had whenever a fight was coming near. 

“Oh, sure, I’m the one favored by Phil. As if you don’t run off doing god knows what and distance yourself from us. Just because you’re sad? Depressed? Is that it? Are you unhappy? Well, news flash, Techno, we all are. I don't know if you could tell, but we all aren’t very stable. But I finally found a home where I don’t have to steal some food just to survive, so just try not to ruin it for me, alright?” 

Techno threw his fist onto the table as he pushed himself out of his seat. “Is that all I am to you? Just some depressed freak? Is that why I get mistaken for Wilbur? Huh? Am I just a sadder version of Wilbur?” 

Tommy scoffed. “Sure, you’re just a part of Wilbur’s dark shadow he can’t fix. If you really want to be differentiated, maybe don’t follow the same path as Wilbur.” 

That shut up Techno real quick. The kitchen was quiet; not even the sound of the stove or birds tweeting were heard. Tommy said nothing else as he plopped back down onto the kitchen chair, settling the side of his face into his hand as he looked away. Techno was tempted to just squeeze Tommy until he popped, but he was so empty, that he wasn’t even sure if even hurting Tommy would make him feel better. He stumbled past Phil as he headed over to the staircase. 

“Techno, wait. Let’s talk.” Phil reached his hand out to grab Techno’s arm, but Techno flinched so hard that he almost ended up slipping from the first step of the stairs. He lifted his head up to send a glare in Phil’s direction before stomping his way up the stairs. 

“Well, ouch,” Wilbur mumbled. “I wouldn’t exactly call myself depressing.” 

Techno ignored Wilbur’s remark as he threw open the bathroom door and opened the bathroom cabinets. It was around here somewhere, Techno thought to himself, as he emptied the cupboards in search of the dye. Tommy had purchased some permanent dye for crazy hair day at his school, but after Phil had found out he bought a permanent one, he hid it somewhere in the bathroom and instead bought a temporary one for Tommy. 

“I knew it,” Techno murmured to himself as he pulled out the hair dye that Phil had stuffed into the cabinets. Picking himself up from the floor, he released his hair from the braid and stared at himself in the mirror. 

He wasn’t Wilbur. He was never Wilbur. He was Techno, he wasn’t Wilbur 2.0, he was Techno, and that’s all there is to it. All his life has felt like a competition as to who was the better one, who was the independent one. From the days at the orphanage, where people had looked at them weird because they didn’t want two children, they wanted one, and the one they had always yearned for was Wilbur. At school, Techno was only known as Wilbur’s twin, he wasn’t known for his good grades or his passing scores in class that would get him to the top. He was known for his brother’s reputation. 

Unlike Techno, Wilbur was blessed with the gift of socializing and understanding people from their emotions alone. Wilbur wasn’t exactly popular, but he did have a reputation following him. He was the typical artsy band kid at school, he had bad grades, but he was knowledgeable. That was the difference between them: Techno took his knowledge for granted while Wilbur didn’t. He’d rather smoked behind the school bleachers and let himself be kicked around. While Techno fought to get himself somewhere that wouldn’t have made him a target, Wilbur didn’t care, and that dragged Techno down along with him. Techno existed just as an example of Wilbur’s mistakes. It was so obvious that even Tommy, goddamn loud British boy Tommy, could tell. 

Wilbur was the most selfish, yet selfless person Techno knew. Wilbur’s presence stopped being acknowledged at school though. At one point it had to end. Except it passed on to their home, as well. Perhaps the abandonment had left Wilbur with a clear mind because now he only sat in his room and played his guitar until dawn set in. Techno never lectured him. Techno never bothered him. He never told him anything about it. Why would he? He was just a rock floating down this river called life, whatever that was thrown at him, Techno dealt with it, never with words, but with actions. It’s all he’s ever known in his life. 

“What an idiot,” Techno murmured to himself. It’s all he ever thought whenever Wilbur entered his mind. He’s not Wilbur. He never will be. He’ll change his whole appearance if he had to. Slamming the cabinet shut, he squeezed the box of dye in his hand. “Idiot.” 

“There, there. You are kind of an idiot, but it’s not like everyone knows how to deal with hair dye,” Wilbur’s teasing voice came from the doorway of the bathroom. “Are you going to let me help you with the dye or are you just going to keep repeating idiot to yourself in the bathroom like some sort of weirdo?” 

Techno pursed his lips angrily. “You don’t care that I’m dying my hair?” 

Wilbur smiled. “No. Why would I? It was about time you did something new with your hair, anyway.” 

Techno’s hands shook. 

The following day, neither Phil nor Tommy questioned Techno’s pink hair that was tightened into a braid. 

3\. 

Techno felt cold. 

That’s all Techno could feel recently. Cold, empty, and if there was another word lonelier than lonely itself then that would be applied as well. 

Years have passed, he’d graduated high school years ago, so why does his life feel like a never-ending cycle of the same routine. When will his life really begin? Time went by so fast, yet so slow. Techno found himself staring at the clock in his room, his mind wandering to places. Before he knew it, he had spent hours doing absolutely nothing. What was he thinking? He couldn’t remember. How many hours have gone by? He couldn’t find the energy to count. 

Then there was Wilbur, useless as always, who entered Techno’s room during his moment of rotting in bed. Wilbur stared at Techno, his stomach tightening. Techno’s eye bags were darker than Wilbur had ever seen them before, and Wilbur has witnessed him stay up during sleepless nights. 

“Shit. You look pathetic.” Wilbur crouched next to Techno’s bed. Wilbur looked the same as ever, his youth never leaving his features. Techno was the opposite, though. He had wrinkles that formed from stress and his hair stuck up in different directions. His skin was pale, not as pale as Wilbur’s, but it was almost there. Wilbur couldn’t recall the last time Techno had left his bed and that worried him. 

Techno let out a low growl. “If you’re just here to criticize my mental health then leave.” He rolled over onto his other side, his back now facing Wilbur. 

Wilbur let out a sigh and stood up. “Criticizing you is the last thing I want to do, Techno. You’re just worrying me, is all. You’re worrying Phil. You have a brother to look after, you know. We both do.” 

Techno scoffed. “Phil doesn’t care. He’s just glad I’m finally out of the house, isn’t he? If I’m nowhere near him, trouble won’t reach him. Tommy doesn’t need me, either. He’s got his own pack of friends to help him off the ground.” 

Wilbur was starting to look as restless as Techno now. Their conversations never seemed to go anywhere. Wilbur knew this and yet he still wanted to lend a hand. Techno was his brother, his twin, his own blood. “Friends can only do so much. Tommy may not need friends, you’re right, but he still needs a brother.” 

“Yeah, well that brother isn’t me, that’s for sure. Just go back and keep playing house if you really want a family that bad, Wilbur, because you sure as hell won’t find what you’re looking for here.” 

Wilbur took a step back from the bed, stepping on an empty Coca Cola in the process; the crunching of metal was heard as it scrunched up beneath his shoes. Wilbur lifted his foot and picked up the can, his nose wrinkled up in disgust. It wasn’t even the Coca Cola that disgusted him, just the overall atmosphere of this room made him want to shrivel up. There were water bottles and soda cans all over the floor, along with dirtied clothes. In the corner of the room, there was even a mountain of undone laundry. The room smelled of sweat, it made Wilbur want to open a window, but he knew that if he tried Techno would cut off his hands. 

“What’s wrong with family, Techno? Why can’t you talk to me?” Wilbur asked pleadingly, the crack in his voice made him feel so vulnerable. This was how he had to be around Techno: a turtle missing its shell. “Tell me what I have to do to help you.” 

The silence was practically deafening. Wilbur never found it in him to pressure him to tell him, nor would he ever do such a thing. But he felt close to the edge of doing so. He loved Techno, he loved his brother, he adored him. Even with his internal struggles, there was the beauty of the Techno he once knew still buried beneath that hatred. He wanted to pull out that vibrant side of Techno before it cracked and disappeared. 

“Braid my hair.” 

His voice was so quiet, Wilbur almost thought he had imagined it. It had been years since Wilbur had even last touched his hair. He forgot how that felt—that soft brown hair of his Techno once had underneath the pads of his fingers. Wilbur didn’t realize just how much he had longed for the touch of something that was once for him. 

Wilbur swallowed the lump in his throat. “Okay.” 

Techno sat up and pushed the bed covers aside as he scooted to make space for Wilbur. Techno lifted the sleeve of his shirt to reveal a hair tie. Wilbur wondered how long he had it on his wrist, but he didn’t want to push his luck. With no other words to exchange to him, Wilbur walked over to Techno’s bed and sat down behind him. 

Techno didn’t look at him as he slid the hair tie off his wrist and handed it over to him. Wilbur stared at the hair tie for a while. He took it before Techno could change his mind. 

Wilbur parted his hair, getting to work fast enough so Techno wouldn’t reprimand him, but he also took his time to be able to remember the feeling of Techno’s locks. “You straightened your hair,” Wilbur said, pointing out the obvious. 

“I told you I would,” Techno said, sounding a little exasperated. Perhaps it was an idiotic thing to say, but Wilbur never really let it sink in until now. 

“But I’m here to take care of your curls. I promised you, remember?” Wilbur reminisced. He could still remember the first time he had braided Techno’s hair like it was yesterday. It was such a small thing, braiding someone’s hair, but just those small interactions of Wilbur braiding Techno’s hair brought them comfort. From when Techno would come back from school deadbeat, or after a fight with Tommy over something as ridiculous over who would wash the dishes. Wilbur was there, he was always there. 

Techno closed his eyes and shakily exhaled. “No, you’re not.” 

Wilbur almost paused in his braiding, but he stopped himself from doing so and continued his work. 

“What makes you think that?” 

“Because you’re dead.” 

That made Wilbur truly pause, the exertion in Techno’s voice making him halt. Techno could feel his trembling fingers skim above his unfinished braid. Everything suddenly felt so suffocating, Techno thought to himself, as he felt like grasping at his chest for a need of air. The gust of cold air withdrawing from his fan was not enough to clear his sweaty palms or legs. 

“If I’m dead then how am I still here?” Wilbur questioned. 

Techno thought to all the times they had together. They were real, they weren’t fake, they were true experiences, all that he’d spend it with Wilbur. Wherever he went, Wilbur was right there; to think Wilbur didn’t reside on this earth anymore was enough to make Techno want to scream. Wilbur played him music so Techno could rest easy. Wilbur was the one who would brawl with Techno during lonely mornings where the house would consist of just him and his brother. No matter how much Techno had loathed Wilbur, no matter how selfish Wilbur was when it came to his ego, Techno always had a hand to hold. 

If Wilbur was dead, then who sang to him at night? Who was there to put bandages all over his body after vigorous training? If Wilbur was dead, then is the Wilbur he’s created in his mind nothing like the twin he once truly had? No matter how much Techno wanted to remember, he couldn’t. When he’d attempt to think of a past before Phil came into his life his mind would turn into a blur and his ears would begin to shriek. 

This Wilbur wasn’t Wilbur, it couldn’t possibly be. He was simply another fragment of Techno’s inclinations. He yearned to understand who his twin was before he became a ghost that’d haunt his mind, but at the same time, he feared the truth that would come with it. To think someone you knew was created out of tribulation was enough to tear Techno’s heart into two. All his life Tommy and Phil had never said anything... he wondered if maybe Phil had a ghost of his own. 

“I don’t know,” He answered truthfully. “I don’t know. Just tell me I’m wrong, tell me this wasn’t all just a lie. Scold me like you usually would, slap me over the head, and lecture me on how stupid that would be. Say everything is okay and play your guitar like you usually would. Help me now like you would help me then.” 

Wilbur didn’t say a word. 

Techno clenched his teeth; the tears brimming at the corners of his eyes sent his skin on fire. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen seconds. Anything, say something, say anything. 

“Speak.” 

Wilbur didn’t speak. Instead, he finished the braid. 

“Say something!” Techno threw the covers off the bed and stood up to his full size. His entire body shook with an anxiousness different than he’d usually experience. 

“It was never a lie. I may be gone, but my sentiment remains the same.” 

Techno paced across the room, his heavy footsteps in rhythm with the beating of his heart. How could he begin to trust Wilbur when he was nothing but a lie to him this whole time? 

“Who even am I without you? I am nothing but your half.” 

“That’s not true. All these years-” 

“-I’ve only gotten by because of you but you’re just a part of my demented brain.” Techno laughed, walking to the other side of his wall, which wasn’t very far from his bed considering the size of his room. He shifted his weight onto the wall, knowing that if he stood up any longer without any security his knees would grow weak. 

“I was alive,” 

“And then you died on me... you died on us! Shit...” 

Wilbur stood up hesitantly, taking careful strides over to him. Techno gathered his energy to take two steps over to his bedside drawer, open it, and take out a pair of scissors. Wilbur stared at them, taken aback. 

He seemed to understand almost instantly. “Techno... your braid.” 

Techno let out a dry chuckle. “I refuse to have you cast yourself over me wherever I go. All my life you’ve overshadowed me... even in death you continue to follow me.” 

Wilbur looked down at the ground. The shine in his eyes disappeared. “Because you, too, were a part of me.” 

Techno’s hands quivered as he kept his hold on the scissors. The blade was currently situated over the braid, just a single movement would cut off his hair. “And yet you died on me... why? You were my brother.” 

Wilbur looked up at him, the edges of his eyes crinkling as a small grin formed on his lips. “As you were mine.” 

His fingers clamped down before he could even think about it. With a few snaps, his braid came tumbling down to his feet. The tears came rolling down as the realization hit. Looking forward, Wilbur was nowhere to be seen. Techno could only stare at the fallen hair that his brother had once touched with his hands. 

He toppled over onto his bed. He seemed to feel emptier than before. The lingering sensation of his brother’s hands on his hair has long vanished. It was quiet and the room had suddenly gone dark... how much time has gone by? Techno couldn’t care to check; he stared at what was above and ruminated how his life could have turned out without the ghost of his dead brother stitched to him. 

As he felt his eyelids begin to close, he could see the ghost of Wilbur’s smile on his ceiling still haunting him. 


End file.
